I Knew
by Butane Baby
Summary: Bulma's candid reflection on her relationship with Vegeta as he confronts his emotional demons during the Babadi/Buu Sagas. (One-shot story. This is a repost. Reasons explained in the notes.)


**Hello. Thank you for reading. I deleted and reposted because this story experienced a technological problem that couldn't be fixed. While highly frustrating, I look forward to hearing from newcomers, and I appreciate the continued support from my followers. You are thoughtful, funny, tough, and inspiring. - BB (9-3-18)**

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Friends… nonplussed.

Man, were they ever.

"Nonplussed" has been my favorite million-dollar vocabulary word since primary school. Definition: "So surprised or confused as to be at a loss as to what to say, think or do."

You fit the bill, too, though we certainly weren't friends that day. But I wasn't impulsive when I acknowledged you, the person, by inviting you into my life and home.

Years later my friends still disagree.

Your curiosity was genuine that day. Secret observation shrouded me. Then, I lifted the curtain. You gruffly avoided my gaze, almost appearing ashamed.

No, that's unfair. You were embarrassed.

Defensive, abrasive words you spat like poisoned needles, but I did not dodge or flinch.

"So what?" I thought. I was the antidote. _My words_. My mind.

Just me.

My conscious choice not to pity you breached your suffocating subconscious. Then, finally, your awareness breathed, and we connected in spite of yourself.

Hell courted us together on Namek as well as on Earth – more so you.

The leather-skinned white menace who dared to call himself "lord" explained your prelude... and attitude. Death became you because death incarnate sought you do its bidding. You had become a singular vassal state in which your annihilated race dwelt, along with many atrocities.

Not all were beyond redemption.

Life sought your rebirth after the naked, intergalactic prince dominating you fell into the abyss. But peace eluded you. Humiliation supplanted rejoicing. You should have defeated him, not the "low class warrior" who rejected his heritage - your lineage.

My friends and I rallied lovingly after our death-defying ordeal with Frieza. You kept distance, scowling and propped on that old withered tree.

Was this scene allegorical?

You had no one.

They remained "weak." You embodied "strength."

Black and white, right?

Yet your resentful discomfort belied some respect. Determination was our common language. Your then-mortal enemy's son radiated it. He was a prodigy you could not ignore.

Again, I saw it.

Would his father - my friend - be subjected to your enmity forever? Your first fight whet your competitive appetites, naturally. Only you harbored a killer's animosity. Your frustration acidified and emboldened you.

But did you truly want to kill him now?

Then came me, the charitable "distraction."

I had to trust my instincts about you, to save us all from a new, lethal menace threatening my world. My risk was our reward, eventually. My tools enhanced your innate, extraordinary abilities. We toiled through long, brutal workdays. You trained your body and mind for ascension. In my lab, I trained my mind and spirit for patience, because I knew you would vex me.

By the gods, you went above and beyond. I raised the stakes. It was ugly at times, but we challenged ourselves as much as we created. Neither of us could abandon the brilliance we recognized in each other.

Then, one day, we touched. Pungency and purity were shared between us. I screamed and cried from delirious exhilaration when we had sex, nails penetrating your molten-rock shoulders. You drove harder into me, battling loneliness and misunderstanding and nightmares. Then we talked until your mind muted difficult-to-express emotions.

Oh, how I came to love you both night and day as years passed. No matter how much we disagreed.

I loved you.

This time I questioned my better judgement. You questioned yours with a mercenary's cold, unapologetic calculation. We parted ways, and I birthed your child defiantly, never expecting you to relent. I had enough.

I also accepted my role in our fractured, doomed union.

No excuses. No excuses.

Later, you returned from self-imposed exile brasher, arrogant, and animated – and still trying to prove yourself worthy. I watched.

I saw through it all.

Your haughtiness and pride shattered again. The marathon of deadly battles on Earth should've been your victories. But why weren't they? After all, you achieved the legendary status of Super Saiyan that your longtime rival had as well as our son from the future, who warned us about the dangers facing us.

Your hard work had become as artificial as the cyborgs attacking my planet, you thought at first. I saw it in your eyes, and I hurt for you despite your self-centeredness. My home once had been the provenance of your recovery, and now…

Goku, my friend, chose death to save everyone from Cell's scourge, including you, leaving you without a literary foil. Gohan, the 11-year-old-boy who surpassed his father's strength, saved you on the battlefield - and then, blessedly, defeated the monster with your renewed support.

You returned to my home bowed but not broken. I didn't allow it. I could have walked away, but I couldn't allow it. We had worked too hard. Our toddler drew us closer despite your ambivalence. Some days your emotional walls were impenetrable, but your fondness for us made them porous.

You had to learn.

But demons are resilient, poisoning slowly like arsenic until one's soul vomits blood. My gifts weren't enough to assuage your bruised ego and bitterness. A decade of frustration and uncertainty had taken their toll.

My friend had returned for one day from the afterlife to see his family and comrades.

One day.

You were willing to do anything to fight him - and you did. Your ear-spitting screams strangled me before you arrived at the martial arts temple, wild-eyed and possessed by an evil you _allowed_ inside of your body - the power that augmented yours.

You believed you could manage its influence.

My soul hemorrhaged.

It had been seven years since I welcomed you back into my life, Vegeta.

I thought of our son. Had you?

I understood what pride meant to you. Why had you underestimated my comprehension?

We slept together, taught each other, and were raising a child. Had you thought about me?

And yet, on that day I finally heard your call through grief to make things right. You fought the psychosis that almost claimed your spirit - and won. You won.

And when your powerful body and passionate spirit crumbled to dust trying to save us, I felt it.

I knew, my love.

I knew that you loved us.

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 **Thank you for leaving these comments in July. They mean a lot.  
**  
"All I can say it was beautiful" – July 19, elianni

"You know when you hear something funny or shocking, you spit out your drink. well, this fic had the same effect only it wasn't shocking or funny but rather it was quite poetic and beautiful, and instead of spitting my drink, I burst into tears." – July 16, Kitty in a Box

"This was well written. I know this is more likely a One-shot, but you can definitely expand on this by having a short multi-chaptered story of Vegeta finding this written by Bulma just so we could see his reaction. Also, I appreciate the review on my Uncovered Sentiments One-shot. It's a good thing when I can make my readers feel something emotionally. Keep up the good work." – July 15, V 4 Vellian


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